


Do You Really Care For Me?

by FrangipaniFlower



Category: Homeland
Genre: AU, Drama & Romance, Early Beginnings, F/M, Season 3, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts in S3, a few days after the Javadi homicides.</p><p>Chapter 9 (final chapter) is new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt to write a fic with a lot of text messages and a darker approach than my other fics.

It was the tense days in the middle of the Javadi operation, after the clusterfuck at Long Hill Road. Javadi was back to Iran and as they were in the middle of the operation to track the hint about the real Langley-bomber still being on american soil, Carrie got contacted from Franklin again.

He requested her to meet with him, naming a bar downtown as meeting point, just 90 minutes later. He promised to make it her worthwhile. Quinn was with her in the Ops room when she answered the call and they had an heated argument right after it if she should go or not. He insisted that there wasn't enough time for proper set up and surveillance, she insisted that it might be the only chance while he questioned her sanity, yelling "Really Carrie? As if last week wasn't enough?! Again?"

While they were right in the middle of it, Dar and Saul entered the ops room, after a meeting with Lockhart. Carrie used the welcome distraction, which had made Quinn shut up, to call Virgil and request a improvised surveillance ops right now. Much to Carrie's dismay Dar decided, he and Saul would join, and then Quinn had stormed out of the room and snarled "Take your fucking gun, I'll see you there."

_Well, what a joyful crowd._

_\--------_

They are outside the bar at the requested time, Carrie after a brief stop at home to change into a black dress and boots. Virgil has improvised communication between them but Carrie insists she has to go in without ears, Franklin is no fucking rookie. So they agree, she'll text with Quinn if possible and necessary. No contact from the team to her, though.

Carrie (over radio): I'm going in now. I'll text every 20 minutes.

Quinn (over radio): Good.

She has no idea where he is. But, anger put aside, is glad he's around.

Then 21 minutes pass...

  
Radio talk between Quinn and the surveillance van:

Quinn: She's not texted yet.

Saul: Relax. She said 20 minutes.

Quinn: It's been more.

Saul: Just wait.

Dar: Great start. We should have discussed her defintion of '20' before she went in.

Saul: Just wait. She knows what she's doing.

Carrie (texting to Quinn): He was late. Came 5 minutes ago. Having drinks at the bar. Mojitos. With mint leaves.

Quinn (text) Is he sketchy?

Quinn (over radio): She just texted. He was late.

Carrie (text): Come on, he ordered drinks with mint leaves. And wears a suit. Cliché lawyer. Oily.

Saul (to everybody, but not Carrie): See, I said, give her a minute.

Quinn (texting to Carrie): Be careful is all that I'm saying.

Carrie (text): As long as you fucking do what you are supposed to, this time, I should be fine. Gotta go back in. 20 min.

_That bitch. Putting herself out there, again and again, for that damn redhead and now she's lashing out. And every time she calls I still come. I agreed to help her. For Brody. What the fuck was I thinking._

_Sure, Carrie. Whatever you need._

25 minutes pass. He goes from "What the fuck, why can't she read the clock?" to "I'm going in and check" in no time, but going in means risking the operation and in that risking her safety. Fuck. He knew it. A badly prepared operation is always highly likely not to succeed.

Same time, in the surveiilance van:

Adal (to Saul): So, what? Is your apprentice fucking the guy now?

Saul : sigh

Adal: Cause that wouldn't be the first time, for what I hear...

Saul: Just be fucking patient for one minute, ok?

Carrie (text to Q): He wants me to change location. Didn't say yet where I have to go. Are you close?

Quinn (text): Yes. Don't go in his car. Keep yours.

Carrie (text): I'm not completely nuts. Need to go back in. Will change to virgin mojito now. Just in case I can't sneak out again, motherfucker already asked if I have a bladder infection: Empty text means we're coming out. God have mercy with you if you fuck this up, cause I wouldn't show mercy.

27 minutes pass.

Dar: Quinn, go in.

Saul: No. She'll have reasons.

Dar: Do they rent rooms?

Virgil: No.  
  
Dar: Then check the toilets first.

Saul: Quinn, no, don't blow your cover. We might need you later, don't risk to be seen now.

Fuck it, he's going in, God knows what Javadi orchestrated, and Carrie being ginger-focused might lack some of her usual instincts. He's about to cross the parking lot when his phone vibrates.

Carrie: empty text

_So, let's rock 'n roll._

He makes it back to his car in time to see Carrie and Franklin coming out.

_Take your own car, Carrie, don't get in his car._

She indeed takes her car and follows Franklin eastbound through the city. He's four cars behind them, when he receives a text at a red traffic light.

Carrie (text): Are you still there?

They leave the DC area, traffic gets lesser, and he has to fall back in order not to risk to get made.

Carrie (through wire to everybody): I'm following him on I 50 eastbound, just crossed the state border into Maryland. (...) We are leaving the I 50 now, heading direction of FedEx Field. (...) Fuck, the governor should spend some precious tax dollars on street lightning. (...) Turning left into the abondoned industrial area. He's slowing down. Fuck, this is the middle of nowhere. See the large industrial complex to the left? I guess that's where we are heading.

 _We are far too less people to keep her safe here_.

Quinn (over radio): We are far too less people to maintain basic security here for our team. Let's abort here. I'm just saying Long Hill Road.

Carrie (over radio): Quinn, we don't need your foot on the brake here.

Saul (over radio): If we abort now, Franklin and next thing Javadi will know we don't trust them.

Dar (over radio): Carrie's right. Follow him into the compound. With your car. Quinn, you follow her, unseen. The van stays outside, we are about a 100 yards away, direction FedEx field.

Carrie slowly drives through a rusty gate, into a former cargo load area, which is surrounded by abandoned buildings, mostly large halls but some smaller buildings on one side. It's dark, no lights, except the few lanterns on the main road casting a few rays of light into the area.

Carrie (text): Where the fuck are you? Cause I don't see any car in my rear view mirror.

 _Yeah, of cause she's frightened, suddenly it's not my foot on the break but 'Where are you?', no shit, the goons just ripped her clothes of last week, but why the fuck is she fucking asking for it again. Javadi will fuck us over, what else needs to happen for anyone acknowledging this._  
  
Quinn (text): I'm here, Carrie. Close enough. You're safe.

Carrie (text): You don't know that.

Carrie (through radio): He stopped. Next to an empty, don't know, maybe warehouse. It's fucking dark here, can't see anything.  
  
Saul: Can you see if he's still in the car?

Carrie: No, I don't think so, but it's fucking dark. Want me to check?

Dar: Fuck, no. Stay in the god-damn car.

Carrie (text): Hey, hear that? Your boss cares for my safety. Do you too?

Quinn (text): No I don't, Carrie, ok? That's why I'm here. Fuck.

(Franklin comes to Carrie and he tells her that she has to stay here and that someone will come).

Carrie waits until he's back inside the first empty warehouse.  
  
Carrie (radio): Did you hear that? Please give orders, shall I follow him or wait?  
  
Dar: Miss Mathison asking for orders. Anybody a red sharpie at hand? I need to mark the day in my calendar. For fuck sake, you stay there, that's what this is about.

Carrie (text): Well, now he's pissed again. Where the fuck are you? Cause I am out here on a fucking silver tray.  
  
Quinn (text) : I've changed locations. I'm in that shop, on your right. The one with the metal curtain. Behind the window.  
  
Carrie (text): So you see me? Fuck, how did you get there without me seeing you?  
  
Quinn (text): It's kind of my job. Also, you know what? Fuck you, Carrie. I didn't screw up last time. I was ordered to stay away from you, and I actually disobeyed those orders when I went and check on you. If I had my way, those assholes wouldn't have laid a finger on you.  
  
Carrie does not answer for 10 minutes.

 _Maybe not the best moment to have an argument with her._  
  
But she does that to him. Brings out the best and the worst in him, at least he thinks so, not that the best is so much and this great. But she makes him question missions and orders and she makes him care. He's not a fan of all those feelings and turmoil. Not feeling is kind of a prerequisite in his job.  
  
Carrie (text): I was scared. It was humiliating. And fuck those orders, I was alone. Since when do you care about orders? You said you were there and you weren't. Wait, who ordered you to stay away?! And don't fuck with me. I'll be in that fucking shop in no time, and make you talk.  
  
Saul (radio): Carrie, anything new?  
  
Carrie (radio, to everybody): No. No movement. No contact. And I'm fine, if anybody was going to ask.  
  
Quinn (radio, to everybody): No one around.  
  
Quinn (text): Saul ordered me to stay away. You ordered me to stay away. That fucking mission! Well, that's what happens when you're so focused on the wrong stuff, or the wrong people, you lose sight of basic safety.

Carrie (text): You are an ass, Quinn. So much about telling you how I felt. What do you mean by wrong people? Javadi is a one in a century.  
  
Quinn (text): Oh, you know what I mean.  
  
Carrie (text): No, I don't. But as we seem to have plenty of time, because that fucking goon we're waiting for is not anywhere close yet, take your time and explain it to me. I'm all ears, well, eyes. And you're still an ass for avoiding the other part of my text.

 _She just wants to provoke me. I'm not answering. I'm not. Fuck._  
  
Quinn (text): I was there. I was there, ok? If you and Saul let me do my job correctly, then it wouldn't have happened.  
  
A few seconds pass.  
  
Quinn (text): Fuck. I'm really sorry, Carrie.  
  
Carrie (text): A) Fuck you. B) Friendly reminder: Wrong people? WTF? C) Define safe distance. D) Even if I don't blame you, I was scared. E) What's your job exactly these days?  
  
Quinn (text): Well, I'm happy you don't blame me. What would you say if you did?

 _I'm a fucking addict. So much for question E. That's why I keep answering. That's why I oromised to help you. Not to get the bomber, but to clear the fucking ginger traitor's name. Let's be honest here._  
  
Carrie (text): I wouldn't even consider to dignify you with any kind of communication at all. You wouldn't even get the time of the day anymore. Or maybe opposite, a manic meltdown, ever witnessed one? There's a reason, people refer to me as Crazy Carrie. And you are avoiding A, B, C and E.  
  
Quinn (text): A) is childish. B) Are you telling me you really want to get Javadi? You're just trying to manage your obsession with - you know who. Come on, why are we even talking about this? You know very well what you're doing, trying to get distracted; getting sloppy.  
  
Carrie (text): Leaves C and E. Don't call me sloppy.  
  
As Quinn does not answer for quite some time, Carrie sends another text. She can't really explain it to herself but she needs to rattle his cage, needs a reaction from him, needs him to understand her - and knowing he is close helps to fight the incoming fear.  
  
Carrie (text): Fell asleep? Ever read Harry Potter? "you know who"... He has a name. And if you think I did all I did just because of him you are even a bigger prick than I ever assumed.

Virgil (radio): Carrie, what's wrong? You're quiet today. I didn't even get a proper insult til now.  
  
Dar: sigh  
  
Saul: sigh  
  
Carrie (radio): Cut that crap, Virgil. Anyone able to overview the whole layout of the compound here? Maybe he's already here.  
  
Virgil: I need to take a piss anyway, I’ll have a look.  
  
Saul: No, stay here.  
  
Quinn: Everything's fucking FINE, Virgil. I see most of the entries. No movement.  
  
Quinn (text): Brody, ok? Everything you're doing is for Brody or to avoid thinking of Brody, and that's why you're taking those CRAZY risks. And blaming me. And yes, all caps are necessaries.  
  
Carrie (text): Why do you get so agitated? Nice use of the word 'crazy', I know an insult when I get one. And whatever you think to know about me, turning tables with Javadi is not about Brody.  
  
Carrie (text, two minutes later): And just in case you didn't know: It's a condition, I won the gene lottery, my father has it too, I did nothing wrong to get it. And, besides all the mistakes I made in my life one could want me to atone for, I think I don't deserve to have it. Nobody deserves it. It's nasty. So if you wanna do me a favour, don't call me crazy, ok? Cause that's mean.

He sees her, through the night sight, and she's just unfolding a handkerchief and blowing her nose. She didn't have a cold earlier the day.

 _Oh no, please, I didn't make you cry, did I?_  
  
Quinn (text): I didn't call you crazy. Carrie I swear. I was talking about crazy behavior, which we are all capable of. Listen, forget about it, ok? About this whole discussion. I guess I'm just worried, is all.  
  
Carrie (text): Worried? About what?

_Of course she can't let it just go. I should stop this right now._

Quinn (text): About you, and the insane risks you take. See? I've not used the c-word.

_Why's she not answering?_

Carrie (after some minutes, text): Insane's not much better, but I appreciate the effort. It's been a while someone's worried about me. Is this where I should say something like 'I'm fine'?

Quinn (text): Good.

_That's kind of stopping it, good answer. Safe ground._

Carrie (text): 'Good' is not really an answer to my question. They take their sweet time. It's a shame we can't order food. Don't you ever feel lonely on your missions? Or do you always text then? To whom?  
  
_Stay on safe ground, don't answer this. Don't think about calling Jules, from the cabin. Don't think about how often you were just about to text Carrie from Venezuela. Or even call her. In that night, after...Don't think about it, asshole._

Quinn (text): No.  
  
Carrie (text): Hm, I take it as a universal answer to my two (2) questions. I was going to say I like not being completely alone here, but this is getting a bit one-sided. I know: Max took over the position in that shop. Max, what did you do with Quinn? Are you sure you can handle that gun, when worse comes to worse, Max? Yours, Chatty Carrie (starts with a c-word)

_Okay, I just have to stop it._

Quinn (text) : Conversation over, Carrie.

Carrie (text): Hm, back to being an ass? If conversation's over why did you text? You could just stop. Want me to beg? I can do that. Please don't stop, feels better to know you are out there, at a safe distance. See, I can be a good girl.

 _Oh God, Carrie. What the fuck? What the fucking fuck_?

Quinn (text): Yeah, you know what, fuck you again. So all this insulting me was just a way for you to feel less lonely ? To get me to answer so I could, what, entertain you ? When you're bored ?

(then a few seconds after)

Quinn (text): Cause I'm fucking sick of it.  
  
Carrie (text): You know what? Let's stop it. I was trying to...actually I don't know. I am scared now and I was scared then and even you have to admit that it was worrying. And if saying you being out there makes me feel safer gets me a 'Fuck you', then just forget it.  
And for a minute I thought you actually care. My fault, won't happen again. Just do your duty and then go home and do whatever you do then. Watching discovery channel documentaries. Or knitting. Or whatever.  
  
Quinn (text): Yeah, I don't care. That's me. I don't care.

Virgil (radio): I quickly go for that piss now. I really have to.

Carrie (text): Just stop, ok, just stop. I know I asked four your help, thanks for trying, won't happen again. I'd be grateful if we could finish this here tonight together cause it'd be a pity if you walk out of that shop now and get shot, maybe even right in front of me, and my field medic skills are crap, so maybe better stick around for a while, but then, just forget about it.

 _She knows it. And is using it. Making fun of it._  
  
A second later:  
  
Carrie (text): Just for the records, I don't believe you. But if that's what you want me to think, that you don't care, fine.  
  
15 minutes later. Long fifteen minutes. She can't stand the silence. She got used to him being always around, as much as she hates to admit it. He is a constant mysterium, irritating as fuck, but...she grew to like him. Sometimes even, when he gives her one of those intense glances, sitting at his desk opposite hers...but no, there can't be...

Carrie (text): Quinn? Just checking. They didn't shoot you yet?  
  
Quinn (text): You're just a manipulative bitch. So, what, you want me to, I don't know... so you can just reject me? Is that what you want? The pleasure of saying "no"?

_Oh fuck, can I just take that one back?_

And then hell breaks loose. With Virgil.

Fucking Virgil, who needed to pee.

Saying: Guys, don't wanna spoil the fun, but Franklin's dead on the back of the large hall. Probably dumped from greater height. Although I'd say cause of death was the fucking hole in his temple.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter includes description of violence, including the beginning of a non-con situation. Javadi is a bad guy and hires bad guys.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Quinn (over radio): Get out of the car. Now. Run towards the street. Not the buildings. Street. Dar, get the van there. Fuck, Carrie, now. Virgil, stay where you are.

Carrie is half out of the car before he finishes, gun in her hand, another one in her shoulder holster, unconciously shoving her phone in the shaft of her boot to have both hands for a potential fight.

But of course it is too late. They had all the time in the world to make her position. They are already at her car, weapon at her temple, rough search, a tearing sound when the fabric of her dress gives way to greedy fingers, weapons gone, silent killers, no word spoken, gag in her mouth, too big, too much, oh god, she has to fight the vomit back, if she vomits, she'll suffocate, breathe, just breathe. Concentrate. Probably their accent would give her a hint. But there's no need for a hint, it's cristall clear who sent them. Her earpiece is gone, crushed on the floor. She knows how every surveillance agent hates that sound. Sitting in the van and hearing the only connection going south. Knowing your partner's all alone now. Poor Virgil.

She counts three of them before they blindfold her with a dark burlap hood. It smells of blood. Or maybe four, she thinks she made a dark shadow somewhere in the back, closer to the building.

_Those fucking crazy risks you take._

They drag her away from the car, hands tossing her around. Concentrate now. Fourtytwo steps on gravel, now even concrete, sixty steps, a metal stair, sixty-eight steps, four turns, a hand rubbing her breast while walking, fuck, concentrate, twenty-three steps, a door, metall, two hands, tearing down her bra, callous fingers roughly palming her breasts, fuck, fuck, fuck, a knee between her legs, no, no, oh god, no, a harsh voice, heavy accent "No, not now, come on, there are more, we want them all", metall handcuff against a pipe, just one hand, morons, door shut and locked.

They are gone. At least she thinks so.

\--------------  
 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Quinn (over radio): Get out of the car. Now. Run towards the street. Not the buildings. Street. Dar, get the van there. Fuck, Carrie, now. Virgil, stay where you are.

He knows it's too late, he sees them approaching from behind of her car the second he shouts his frantic orders.

_Fuck, that's why it took so long. They rounded the whole complex to access from behind._

_They never planned to give information. And they know she's not alone. They must have seen the van, probably have heard the comms over radio._

He's out of the window the second he sees them and close enough to shoot and could take out two within seconds but the third is helding Carrie in a close grip in front of him, he is fucking small. Too small for a clean shot between the eyes. The angle is too narrow, he'd risk to shoot Carrie in case he or she moves when the first two bullets hit.

Gag, burlap bag.

_Breathe, Carrie, just breathe, you can do that, come on. Don't puke, makes it only worse, believe me. I have this. I'll get you, you know that, do you?_

Two weapons gone. And off they march, securing themselves towards  
the road but not towards the shop front.

_They don't know my position. I only texted that. They know the van's position. So it's ears, her car or earpiece or both, but not her phone. Where's her fucking phone? They have no idea I saw them. Time to regroup._

He melts into the shadows of the abondoned shop again, climbing back in behind the shutters, watching them dragging Carrie into one of the empty buildings. They scan the area and secure their walk, no chance to follow on open ground.

Quinn (to everybody): Your position is made. Retreat. Code Blue. Code Black. Roger that.

(which means 'no communication anymore, all lines go dead' and 'I'm going in alone.' Everybody should know those colourcodes. They are useful. For instance in an IKEA parking lot on Saturdays. And certainly here now.)

Dar: Retreat confirmed, blue confirmed, permission for black. All lines go dead.

Virgil: Ehm, sorry to bother but...

Dar (sighs): Contractors...

(switches the comms board off and grabs a Glock to go and find Virgil by the bigger hall)

Quinn waits in the dark of the shop if anyone comes back out again, putting a silencer on his Heckler Koch gun, scanning the now empty former cargo loading area. All the buildings have crane hooks and a hoist.

_Fuck, there is goon no 4. Well, it's a nice day to die, isn't it?_

He sees him approaching Carrie's car, apparently searching it.

_What is he looking for?_

The goon never sees it coming, one shot, hitting his skull from behind.

He slips through the shadows towards the empty halls, expecting the great door being the entrance only to a labyrinth of halls, former storage facilities and stair cases.

\-------------------

She waits. She forces herself to silently count to 200 and wait. Listen and wait. Breathe, get the heartrate down.

She hears the distant sound of a metal staircase and then - nothing.

Only then she pulls the burlap bag away and the gag out, which makes her nearly puke again.

Half she's expecting to look into the business end of a gun held by a sexcrazed Javadi-paid mercenary but she's indeed alone.

_Morons. Fucking morons. All of them. The Javadi-goons and the CIA goons._

She'll burn Virgil alive, if she comes out here in one piece, for not debugging her car in time. And Quinn for 'You are safe'.

She opens her boots' zippers and slowly fumbles the phone, a knife and a set of pick locks out, careful not to drop the pick locks out of reach.

Left-handed, phone and knife clenched between her teeth, it takes her a while to open the handcuffs but finally she's free.

Well, kind of. The room is about four to three metres, metal closets and a bench on one side, no windows, a former workers' changing room. The metall door is locked, but the lock is brand new, security lock. No chance to open that with her pickers.

She inspects the burlap back, fresh blood on one side.

_Probably they shot Franklin while he was wearing that._

She is pretty sure her phone wasn't bugged. She had it on her body all the time whereas her car was obviously unsupervised in the restaurants' parking lot.

Quinn's last message still vivid in her mind.

_You're just a manipulative bitch._

\--------------------

He's in the first hall when his phone vibrates.

Carrie: If you can bother yourself to care, now would be a fucking good moment. Direction 10:00 from my car, fourtytwo steps on gravel, then concrete, sixty steps, a metal stair, sixty-eight steps, four turns, one 90 degrees turn after each 17 steps, twenty-three steps, then a door, metall, new safety lock. Picked my handcuffs open, have a knife, no other weapon. Doubt I can open the door. Hurry the fuck up, at least one is on a date rape agenda.

And then, a second later: Please. Quinn, really, heartfelt please.

Quinn (text to Dar): I have a location. How long for back-up?

Dar (text to Quinn): Thirty minutes.

Quinn (text to Dar): Too long.

Quinn (text to Carrie): Stay the fuck where you are.


	3. Chapter 3

_Uhm, heartfelt words, nice. But he'll not abandon her, here, now. Or will he? No, not Quinn. Not now. Or would he?_

_Those fucking crazy risks you take. For him._

It feels like she's hearing his voice, actually saying it and not only texting.

_You're just a manipulative bitch._

She still can't hear them, not sure if it's because they are too far away or because the door swallows the sound. She tries to pick the lock but without a drill it is just not possible. So all she can do is to wait, standing behind the door, knife at the ready. It's cold in here and most of her clothes are gone, shivering cold.

\----------------------

With the directions Carrie gave him he is on it pretty fast, making two flights of stairs before he's hearing the voices. Two flights of stairs lead to the next floor each so Carrie must be in the second floor, if it has the same layout like the first floor, probably on the room's far end, close to the hoist which probably was operated through a crenel-like opening.

They are up on the third landing. Three voices. He could take one, probably two if using his moment of surprise well, but by then the third one would already have placed a bullet in his head.

-Call him now. Come on.

Silence. Muttered words in Farsi.

-He wants us to bring her in, now.

So he sneaks back down, out of the hall, time to prove his climbing skills, using the hoist as rope and praying for an hatchway. He can see one on the first floor but can't make the second floor.

_Let me be there in time._

\------------------------

She hears steps on the stairs, coming back and feels the adrenaline rushing through her body.

With her knife, she will be able to take out or at least injure one severly but the second one will be on her by then. If it's only one she might be able to hide before the others notice what happened. The hatchway she saw from her car should be large enough. And it's closer than the staircase. Although she'd be tangling open and unprotected a freaking fucking long time.

The door opens.

_Not yet, too early, you need more than the arm, let him come in first, he'll know you are behind the door, when he sees you are not cuffed to the pipe anymore, he'll turn your way, and then aiming for the neck. Now._

It's just one. At least she can see only one from her position behind the door.

She aims for his neck and lands on his collarbone, can't get the knife in, there's a truth in the soldiers' saying something went really wrong in the first place when you have to fight man to man (man to woman, here, now), hand to hand, other than popular belief, not too many confrontations are settled with a roundhouse kick to the jaw, _fuck_ , she feels the tip of her knife grating at the bone and then into soft tissue but she won't be able to kill him, not at this angle, it's a bloody, messy affair, he gives a gurgling scream and she hears more steps.

\----------------------------------

The hatchway is open and large enough, he hears a gurgling scream while he is levitating along the crane beam.

_Was it her? Fuck, I am too late._

And then he sees her.

\---------------------------------

She's running out of the room, no time to finish business with that goon, she needs to make it too the hatchway, but they are already just meters away from the door, one is blocking the way between her and the opening, and she can't make it down anyway when they know she's out there in the open, and the way to the stairs is blocked too, she's fucked, but she still has the knife and maybe the roundhouse kick might indeed be useful now, if one of them looses is weapon, maybe she can make it to the stairs, and then...

-Stand still.

 _Bam_.

The bullet deliberately hits the floor a meter to her left and she freezes. So Javadi wants her alive.

_Not sure if that's good thing. But sure buys time. For whatever is next. Where the fuck is Quinn?_

_You're just a manipulative bitch._

It still rings in her mind. She'd always thought their last sentence would be more heartfelt.

_But maybe it was heartfelt._

\------------------------------

Saul: We have to go in.

Dar: No.

Saul: She's alone. Back up is too far.

Dar: Quinn's at it. You or the bald wanna-be-knight would just mess it up. When's the last time you had to take out an enemy in action?

Saul: grunts

Dar: See.

\------------------------------

He sees her. Blood-smeared, torn clothes, bra open, hanging loose. Her right hand is clenched into a fist.

_She still has her knife. Classic Carrie. Last stand, but still fighting. But about to loose. Well, three to one is not want one would call fair per Geneva conventions._

Shooting goon approches her now with two large steps while goon number 2 steps in his visual field. He holds a gun too. Number three is no where to be seen.

Shooting goon holds the weapon to Carrie's temple and whispers in her ear, left hand on her shoulder.

\------------------------------

Weapon at her temple, hot breathing in her ear, hand on her shoulder, fingers trailing south, the other one is watching, derisive smile, weapon aiming at her, he's coming closer too, she can take one but not two, callous fingers greedily on her.

-Javadi wants you alive, bitch. Call it your lucky day. But we'll have some fun first. Let's get you to the car? Or you prefer it right here?

_Oh my god, not this, please not this. Oh my god._

She sees a shadow in goon number two's back.

Time to take chances. With lightning speed she pulls her right arm up, knife into the gun hand, hearing a sinew tearing, a scream, he falls, a kick against the weapon, she needs to get the weapon...

_Jump, just jump and dive._

And everything happens at the same time then.

 _Bam_.

One shot. Pain.

_Tschik. Tschik._

Two shots. Tschik, not Bam. Silencer.

Blood on her face, chest,arm.

 _Tschik_.

\--------------------------------

Fingers trailing south, weapon, actually two weapons aiming at her.

He glides into the hall, noiseless, just a shadow.

She's trying to tackle them one by one.

_What else can she do, all alone?_

He shoots before goon two can register Carrie's knife attack on his goon-mate.

 _Bam_.

A shoot from the left.

Fuck, goon three, not dead. He had a fucking gun, Carrie. Disarmed with a third shot. Full-penetrated ulna. Dar and Saul will appreciate if one or two are left for interrogation.

A measured kick stops the whining. He's out cold.

\-----------------------------

_Quinn. Took his sweet time. But he came._

She feels like she's unravelling. But she can't. She sees him. Mouth tense, jaw clenched, eyes dark, giving nothing.

_You're just a manipulative bitch._

\-----------------------------

Five measured steps and his with her, checking her for gun wounds, blood everywhere.

-God, Carrie, speak to me, tell me where the fuck they got you. Carrie, look at me. Carrie - yelling now - look at me. Talk to me.

_Oh God, all that blood. He's too late. All that blood._

-Just a graze. On my arm. Very superficial I guess. The rest is...theirs...I got two with the knife...and the one you shot...his blood...his blood...he...

Her voice trails off and her knees buckle. But he has her. Before she can fall, he has her.

-Carrie, you have either to stand up or to lay down. I need to check that wound.

She can't have that, not know, not from him. She'll never make it back to standing if she unravels now, gives in the urge to lay down and to be taken care of. By him.

He feels her straightening, calming her breathing, deliberately taking a step back.

The wound on her upper arm is superficial, but nevertheless still bleeding strongly. She'll start to feel light-headed soon, too much blood-loss, like it or not, he knows, and she knows probably too. There's nothing to still the bleeding, he cant wait for back-up.

_So, fuck it._

Opening his shirt earns him a raised eyebrow, an unspoken "Really, Quinn?" and he's well aware of the clichéness of what he's about to do.

Both sides of his shirt open and hanging loose he takes the remainders of her dress from her shoulders, carefully avoiding to touch the wound or to cast a look to her breasts.

_I've already seen enough for another sleepless night. Multiple nights, actually. Blood-smeared, martial, nearly naked Carrie. Oh, fuck. Jesus Christ, I'm fucked._

-I'll buy you a new one, he quips, weak, pathetic actually, he knows, and tears the fabric in long stripes.

_Not that it wasn't already ruined and I doubt she'd want to wear it ever again, anyway._

Using the stripes he improvises a pressure dressing, two remaining stripes have to serve as improvised wash cloth, before he casts of his shirt and wraps her into it, well aware of her sharp gasp when she's moving her injured arm, holding her a second longer than just offering her his shirt as gown would have required.

She can't stand the proximity though, _you're just a manipulative bitch,_ and aims for brusque casualness.

-Jeez, Quinn, don't tell me you climbed the hoist chain and didn't transpired a single drop of sweat. That nearly makes up for fucking taking your sweet time.

_Where were you? I was so scared. And you weren't there. But you came. I was afraid you wouldn't. I'm not a bad person. But I am so scared to hurt you. To get hurt. Cause you are real. You are no fucking fantasy, no firecracker of want and pain and destruction like Brody. You are real and I'm not good at that._

_That glance, I can't stand that glare, those eyes. Your scent in that shirt, the heat, radiating from your body, is already more than I can take._

So she turns away, starts walking, hears him talking to Dar on the phone.

-I have her. She's doing ok. Coming down now. Send clean up crew. Two casualties, one up here, one at Carrie's car. Two injured, one severly, might not make it. Knife and gun wounds. I'll plastic cuff their feet, just to be sure, second floor, yeah. No, she'll need to see a doctor but no ambulance. I'll take her.

Her legs buckle and the world starts spinning when she's at the first step.

-Whoa, come here.

_Not that I didn't see it coming._

Knowing she wouldn't tolerate him carrying her, he wraps one arm tightly around her, supports her into an upright position, slowly downstairs.

The van's in the open area between the halls when they come out. He lets go of her carefully, glad and sorrow-stricken in equal measurements when she's holding on to his elbow.

Dar's speaking on the phone, raising an eyebrow at Carrie's appearance, while Saul's crossing the quadrangle with long steps.

Virgil's busy around Carrie's car, the dead goon already taken care of and out of sight.

_Now you are searching her car, dumb asshole._

It still makes sense, though, a bug is a bug, but he needs to lash out. And if only in his mind.

Saul approaches Carrie, she still clings to his elbow, which makes it somehow better cause it's his elbow and not Saul's or Virgil's and she doesn't let go.

-Carrie.

-Saul.

-Did they say anything? Is Javadi still in play?

-I don't know. They didn't speak much and I...

Something in him snaps.

_This is so fucked up. So fucked up. Not even an 'how are you?'. Really, Saul?_

-Carrie needs to see a doctor.

Both Virgil and Saul offer to take her, Saul has the cojones to add 'We can talk on the way then.'

_Did he ever read my resume?_

-You know what, Saul? This is fucked up. It was fucked up right from the beginning. It's like parking a car: If the first turn of the steering wheel doesn't fit, you can turn back and forth as much as you want, you can't correct it anymore.

Dar's joining them now and he is well aware of Carrie starting to shiver by his side.

-Never took you for a poet, Quinn. Carrie, nice dress, although a bit wide around the waistline.

_He knows exactly how far I'm round the bend, it just transpires to him._

-There's nothing we can do here tonight. Take the two alive into interrogation and send the clean up-crew in. I'll take Carrie to a hospital. See you tomorrow.

_Virgil's stare. Is he actually non-verbally trying to threaten me?_

He feels Dar's and probably everyone else's stares in his back when his arm goes around Carrie's shoulder to support her to the car - he'd carry her if he weren't sure she'd shoot him for it.

When she sits in the car, she's just staring out of the window.

-No hospital. I'm fine.

She's then silent expect of one sentence, barely audible.

-It's almost ten metres. You'd be paralyzed or dead if you'd fallen down.

_Oh, Carrie, is that 'thank you'? Or even worries?_

-Shit like this is my job description.

_Come on, Quinn, don't be so full of it. You know, I'm not good at this._

-Saul didn't summon a helicopter into our equipment package. And I forgot my superman cape at home in the morning. But I'm ok, thanks for not asking.

_And while we are at it, I had to kill twice tonight because of you. Doing it for a living doesn't mean to stay unaffected. Still crawles under my skin._

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The car drive is totally silent. At some point, shortly after they have left Maryland back into the greater DC area, he notices she is shivering and angles his jacket from the backseat, giving it to her wordlessly, eyes on the road.

She casts a look at him, sees his clenched jaw, lips pressed tightly, and suddenly feels like she wants to cry but she can't. Not here, not with him, not after what he said, well, texted. He'd think, she would try to manipulate him, but into what, she doesn't know and of course he would try to comfort her, or wouldn't he? And if he wouldn't, she couldn't stand his coldness. And if he would, she couldn't stand his care.

He knows she's scrutinizing him, of course she is, and wishes she would stop. Or cry. Or say anything. Tell him it wasn't his fault alone. Or yell, that he fucked it up. Anything to avoid what's coming.

They get to Carrie’s home, he goes around the car and opens her door but before he can try to help her, offering his arm or worse, she gets out herself, in a failed attempt to walk steady to her door, she doesn’t want help this time, so she walks with numb legs and weak knees, arms folded around her chest but on her own and he wishes he could beat some sense into her, what a strange urge after what she just has been through.

He wants her to sit on the couch, but no, she stays standing, with the blood and his clothes, looking at him. Staring at him.

_Don't, Carrie, please don't._

Honestly, he wants her not only to sit down and stain the couch with blood but to take a bath and to wash it all away, as if this was possible, and if he had it his way and they were other people with another life, in another universe, he would want to be in that bathtub too, and maybe no blood and no near-rape and no shooting and no dead enemies and no Brody, just two lovers in a bathtub. And even if all of that had to happen and they were still them, here, in this universe, he still would like to be in that bathtub too, to hold her, comfort her, protect her from harm, apologize for what he did and for what he did not, or did too late, or wrong or whatever. He hates himself for the tenderness he always feels for her, that's exactly why she made him tonight, just the moment before everything went wrong.

But as none of this is ever gonna happen he just wishes he could be anywhere else now, anywhere, just not here, with Carrie staring at him.

 

\- Why did you say I was manipulative?

 

He knows perfectly well what she’s talking about, they both know, that last text, before all hell broke lose, he’d do anything, anything, to erase that text from her memory.

 

_Maybe she forgot, with the shock and everything, maybe she forgot the resonance of what I wrote…_

 

\- That last text. What did you mean?

 

He hates her, at that moment. He closes his eyes…

 

\- Does it mean you…

 

He opens his eyes. Ready to deny, to swear, to all heavens that he does not…

 

\- … that you…

 

And then they’re kissing.

 He has no idea who started. Maybe be it’s him, because – obvious reasons – but maybe it’s her, he doesn’t remember starting it, what he does know is that there’s nothing tentative and tender in the kiss, it’s desperate, it’s passionate, she’s smearing blood all over him, and that he's shirtless is not helping, and she’s grabbing his neck and his shoulders and he's touching her everywhere and he say “Carrie” (like a warning), but he doesn’t stop and she doesn’t either, he’s trembling with love (and he realizes that very moment that it`ll never go away, it`ll never stop, he can shoot himself right away) and fear and she’s trembling of shock and who knows what and maybe he shouldn’t but you know what, no, he can’t stop it, anyway he’s under shock too, “Carrie”, he repeats, but this time it’s because she’s alive, alive and he thought he had lost her, and it would`ve been his fault, his guilt, like that kid, and they are still kissing, and he has his hands all over her and yes, they are still trembling, and she’s shivering all over, and then he stops – it takes all of his willpower but he stops.

\- Carrie, he says again, trying to take a stern look, trying to convey the fact that maybe she’s not in the best state to – but maybe his voice doesn’t convey anything but despair, but somehow she gets the meaning “I don’t care”, she says, “I don’t care”, and then they’re on the couch and his hands are on her breasts and she’s still shivering and saying things, like “hold me” and “I need you to hold me” and “I’m so cold, touch me everywhere” and “Please, Quinn, please” and “Don`t go away” and “I need you”, all those things he thought he'd never hear from her but craves to hear and he thinks that if there is a God, he’s going to be punished for this (taking advantage) more than maybe for all the shit he’s done so far in his life, except, maybe, killing the kid – yes, a strange image to invoke when you are biting the nipples of the woman you love – but you know what, he couldn't care less, she's finally his, she wants this, no, needs it, not “it”, it's him who she needs and he wants her so badly and...

 

 

 

And then he stops. Mouth still at her nipple, tasting sweet and sweaty and metallic from blood, he stops, breathing heavily, throbbing erection straining the fabric of his pants.

 

\- Quinn...

 

\- Carrie, no, I...

 

And she gets it. That he's protecting her from harm, again, and protecting himself from her. This is new to her.

And with her hand still around his nape - he is between her legs, she is on her back on the couch, and his mouth still very close to her breast - she guides him upwards and puts a soft kiss on his forehead. He looks down at her and their eyes lock for a moment and that moment transpires something pure but it's gone before any of them can put a finger on it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an awful person, I know. Next chapter tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

He gets up and retreats towards the bathroom, starting the water to fill the tub, what a strange thing, after he just thought about it, just minutes ago, or was it longer, and now she will have that bath but not with him.

And while the tub fills he has a quick shower, because he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and honest to God, he can’t go anywhere with all that blood in his face and on his chest.

When he steps out of the shower he finds a towel, an oversized varsity shirt and his boxers, picked up from the floor where he left them, on one corner of the bathtub which has heaps of foam now and steaming hot water. The rest of his clothes, well, “rest” was just his pants and socks, is gone.

Carrie is nowhere to be seen but he sees light in the walk in closet in her bedroom and honestly, what is there left to say, so he is glad for her choosing to disappear.

The washing machine in the kitchen is running, he has an idea what might be in it. So he busies himself with making tea, she might need a hot drink, and alcohol is not a good idea, not tonight, and probably her arm needs a clean dressing...

_Fuck, her arm, all that blood, I never checked the arm again, and the hot water, and her blood pressure might be low anyway, God, what was I thinking, nothing at all, that is indeed the problem._

When he's back in the bathroom, she's in the tub, under the foam, her hair is wet, and the foam, which has been white before, has some pinkish stains and where he can see the water it's rosé as well.

But she's looking calm, didn't pass out, didn't drown. So he keeps it deliberatly matter-of-factly.

 

_What else can I do? There's nothing else left to say._

 

-Just let me know when you want me to check your arm. Do you have dressing here or want me to get some?

-No. I have everything here. In my closet. Already put the box on my nightstand. Just give me a minute, will you?

He suddenly realizes he's standing in her bathroom while she's naked under those foamy clouds, gosh, he really lost it somewhere tonight. So he returns to the kitchen, rummaging around for some tea, harrumphing when he finds a herbal tea named Tension Tamer. With a fucking fairy tale-dragon on the box.

_Well, maybe she should call customer service and complain, seems not to work at all, but anything warm will do tonight._

Tea making always seemed to him to be more about the ritual than the drink itself or maybe the gesture, a liquid prove of care, and he is oddly aware that he and Carrie have some unsolved business which lays heavily between them. Bringing her a cup of herbal tea to her bed is a far too tender thing to do, requiring a lot more ground as they'll ever cover, and will only add another kink to that gordic knot this night turned out to be.

He briefly considers to just walk away, surely missing his pants is kind of an obstacle but should not stop him from doing so if he really...but he knows he can't leave now. She has been relatively calm while soaking in her bathtub, but she is probably still under shock (and he is too) and shouldn't be left alone. He has missed the chance to just walk away when accepting her refusing to go to a hospital.

Javadi will send someone else to finish whatever this was about. But surely not tonight. But they have misjudged Javadi's actions and motivations three times by now, and he'll be hanging himself if he allows it to happen a fourth time.

Rob will organize two guys for some under the radar-surveillance for tonight, if he asks him, without letting all Langley know, so he texts him. A brief 'Sure' pings back just seconds later. And he'll stay here tonight, fuck the safe distance. An assassin in boxer briefs is better than nothing. And he puts the holster with his gun back on. Ridiculous, with his outfit.

So when the water boiler klicks, he sighs, thinking 'What the fuck', and prepares two cups of tea with lots of sugar, he's in need for some tension tamer too, that's for sure.

She's in short sleeved pajamas when he is back upstairs, sitting on her bed and inspecting her arm.

-Let me have a look.

It's a superficial graze, she's been lucky (and he's been lucky too, because he can't even imagine how he'd feel if she had been severely injured under his watch, after he promised her to be safe, or yes, he knows exactly how that feels, because he got a taste of it that brief moment when he dangled into that storage hall, along the crane beam, and saw what he saw.)

 

_Guilt, pain, fear, numbness, screaming grief - that's how it feels._

 

But it's easy and quick to clean and dress, the warm water has opened the wound again, so he uses some sterile cotton pads to add some pressure and holds her arm firmly while doing so. She doesn't say a word but is painfully aware of his proximity.

-You should re-check in the morning, maybe you'll need new pads then. But it's just a skin graze, nothing deeper.

He reaches out to the mugs on the night stand, about to hand her one, when she crawls under the comforter.

-I'm cold.

 

-I thought so. Here. Drink.

 

-Quinn, I...

 

-Carrie, don't. Sleep. I'll stay and watch.

 

-So no safe distance tonight?

 

-Didn't bring us that far, did it?

 

-Quinn...I know it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for...

 

He looks at her and the unmasked pain she sees in eyes for a brief second before he, well, before what, she has no idea how he's doing it, switches it off, or masks it, but the glimpse she gets is enough to make her cringe inside.

_You're just a manipulative bitch._

 

-Quinn...about what you...

 

-No, Carrie, please don't - she can hear the pain now - just sleep, will you? You need some rest.

 

 

 

_And I do too._

 

And she surprises him by giving in, probably exhaustion finally taking its toll, and curling up on one side, her injured arm carefully balanced on top of the covers. When he gets up and is about to leave the room she sits back up.

 

-You can't take the couch, Quinn, it's blood-stained and there's no blanket, you'll be cold. Sleep here. You need to rest too.

 

And she pads the spot next to her.

 

He's to done in to discuss, object or even make an ascerbic comment, and what would be the point of it anyway, now, as she knows and he can't make it unwritten and unsaid. Whereas all the things she said will be vanished tomorrow morning, like she never said them. Because she never meant them. He saw her Brody wall downstairs, while making tea, and probably subconciously he he even saw it while being closer to her as he'll ever get again.

 

_Now that would have been something, Brody staring down at my naked ass while I fuck the woman who's obsessed by him._

 

So he just rounds the bed, puts the holster and the weapon on the nightstand, goes back to the door and secures it with a chair so they'll hear for sure if it will open and climbs into the bed, laying on his back as Carrie switches off the lights. Here we go, he thinks, can this night please end. And then quite contrary, how he wishes it would never end.

He hears her breathing getting deeper and more even and hopes she catches some deep, relaxing sleep. And strangely he feels how the calm peace of a Carrie's home, soft bed, hot tea, clean sheets, her smell, her proximity build a cocoon around him and how he slowly drifts off into a dream-like state. He's not sleeping though, but his mind is wandering freely, not a good idea, that's why he rather stays awake or drinks, but he can't fight it now, he's too tired.

He thinks of Julia and how he saw her and the boy last week and how he managed to play his cards in a way that he ends up having a son he'll never see again. He thinks about how lonely he must be that within a mere year he reached out to Jules twice and how she made clear that this can't happen again. Before that they haven't spoken in years but he always knew she was still out there, maybe caring for him. Now that is over too.

He thinks of Caracas, of the boy, sees him laying in the pool of blood, himself feeling his pulse and how a piece of the remainder of his heart froze that moment. A child.

He thinks of Carrie, kidnapped by pure evil and how she put herself out there again. _How could she doubt I'd come to help her?_ He sees the greedy fingers abusing her, he sees guns pointing at her, and he knows he is too late, this time he is too late, he'll loose her and it is his fault, like killing the boy was his fault, and loosing his son was his fault, and now he sees John in that pool of blood in Caracas, and Carrie in another pool of blood and...it's a spiral of all those images and they are coming faster and faster and he can't do anything about it, he's paralysed, doomed to watch, unable to stop the show.

 

She feels how she's drifting into a sleep-like state, last conscious thought is how strange it is that Quinn is lying next to her in the dark room and how safe she feels. She thinks about the events of the night, at the warehouse, shivering at the sheer thought of what could have happened, and knows she'll not be able to erase those memories off her brain ever again, the shame, the revulsion, the fear. And she thinks of Quinn, and how she could doubt a single second that he would come and help her. And what he wrote. And said. And did. And what she said, she still knows what she said and asked for, in the car and later on her couch. And strangely, she is not ashamed or embarrassed. She meant it. She feels him stirring and hears him muttering a few words but can't make out what he's saying, dreaming, obviously.

But it's not a good dream, he tosses and turns and she's not sure if she should wake him or not but it's not getting better, quite the opposite, and he's asleep anyway so why not, he needs some rest too, and so she slips a hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

-Thank you, Quinn, she whispers, more for her own ears as for his.

And with her hand around his, she feels him calming down and she herself feels how she is calming down and they both drift into deeper, thankfully dreamless sleep.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Carrie wakes up a few hours later, her hand still holding loosely his hand. He's sleeping, deeper as before and calm. She carefully glides a bit closer, enjoying the warmth radiating from the bulk of the body a few inches away from her. She wonders how it'd feel, to lay there with him, in his arm, to be that person who is allowed to be there during the night. It felt good when he held her in his arm after Nazir had kidnapped her. And seeing him in that warehouse tonight after all that hell was the only thing that kept her from unravelling. She knows that. How he saved her, by climbing up a fucking hoist (and killing two men), dressed her wound, brought her down the stairs, and away from Saul and Dar and poor Virgil. No hospital but here.

_And that he's still here._

She wanted him, down on the couch, wanted his touch to erase the evil, wanted to be loved.

  
_By him._

She still would want that, it wasn't just the shock. And in a very twisted way, his rejecting her, while every cell of his body clearly told him otherwise, escalated her longing.

  
_For him._

 

 _He puts my needs above everything. He wants to protect me from harm, even from himself_.

 

She knows very well what brought them to this point, and that his last text spoke the truth. Quinn doesn't play.

The thing is, she wasn't playing either. In the beginning maybe, purpose was to deal with the tension, not to play with him, but then she went on to get something from him, a testament that he is there, cares and keeps her safe. While doing an operation they are not only doing to keep America safe but to vindicate Brody's name - on her request.

Suddenly Quinn's proximity is more than she can bear so she glides back to her side of the bed and out from under the blanket, silently and carefully removing the stool and out of the room, downstairs into the living room. The light is dim, it is the middle of the night, just two outside lanterns casting beams of light into the room. She doesn't dare to look at her couch but opens the washing machine and hangs his clothes out to dry in the small patio. The fresh cool air makes her shiver and she quickly retreats back in, getting herself a glass of water.

She would like to crawl back into bed, back into his warmth, but thinking about Brody while enjoying Quinn's presence made her feel in a way she hasn't before. Not exactly guilty, but blameworthy and perverted. She has no right to be with him, not after he more or less admitted what - time for honesty - subconsciously already transpired to her every now and then. How he feels about her. 

_Or didn't he? I'm so bad at this._

Brody. She sits on a stool in front of her sightings wall, Brody has been looking down on them during their, yeah, what was it? Encounter? Would he care? He wouldn't probably give a shit. She knows that now.

As much as he was a shooting star for her, his attraction based on his brokeness and unaccessability, she was a straw for him, back to sanity, being with the insane girl made him suddenly the saner one, it's all a matter of reference and baseline.

And in terms of sanity she is a fucking low baseline. Or she was back then. She is much better now.

And while she sits there, something strange is happening. She can let the monomania, that Brody clearly was for her, go, she can mourn what they were and what they never were and will never become, and it is replaced by the certainty that she will give everything in her professional power to vindicate his name.

So he gets a chance to claim a life back. His life. Although she doubts he will succeed. But he deserves a chance, after being fucked not only by terrorists but by his own country over and over again. But she will not be part of that life and those attempts.

_But everybody deserves a second chance._

This is over. Being with Brody was never about her, at least not for him. She holds no grudge, she's not holding her admission to the psych ward and her ETC rounds against him, she was clearly not in a good state back then.

But with cristal clearity she knows now that the good bye in the woods was a permanent one. She won't abandon him now, she'll keep hunting the bomber, she'll keep searching Brody - but for the rest...it's over. It was over in the woods, maybe even before. She just didn't admit it.

_It feels good to close that chapter._

Professional distance to her cases and operations was never her strength, and probably never will be, it's just the way how she is, and through living and breathing her cases like they were her own nature, she is able to do and see what she does and sees and understands.

That is always a risk when it comes to handling assets, the line she's balancing there is always fine, too fine most of the times. That's why her successes are larger than life, and her defeats spectacularly devastating. Because she is her mission. There is no other way she knows how to do it.

So the Langley-bomber search will not be any less intense now but...the other chapter is closed.

She thinks she hears a stifled sound somewhere near the stairs and freezes on her chair. She should have taken her weapon or probably she shouldn't even sit here. Strange thing, they are coming from the main door, she'd expected, if anything was going to happen, it would be from the backdoor. But honestly, she hadn't even thought about it. Big mistake, as it seems now. So, fuck, she has to take the only chance she has.

-Quinn, she yells as load as she can.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

And there he is, how did he do that, the second after she called his name, he materializes from the hallway, Glock at the ready, smooth movements, so quick, ready to shoot with lethal precision.

 

-Where, Carrie, where? Down. Go down.

 

And then she realizes, it was him, she heard him.

 

-Fuck, Quinn, nowhere. Nobody's here. It's just you and me.

 

She raises from her stool, feeling anger rising in her chest, and is about to push past him but he pushes her back into the kitchen area, quickly searching the lower floor himself, still ready to shoot.

 

When he comes back, he switches the lights on and puts the gun on the counter, looking at her with, well, with what, boiling ire, why the fuck?

 

-Quinn, you scared the living crap out of me! How dare you to creep around here like some intruder at the middle of the night?

 

 _It is fucking unbelievable_ , he thinks, before he snaps.

 

-You were scared? Fine. So you were scared. Fucking fine. Any idea how I felt when I woke up and you were gone, without a fucking word? I thought they were here. I thought they had taken you, right under my sleeping eyes. Again, Carrie. So what the fuck was I supposed to do? Run an algorythm to figure out how realistic that scenario is, pad around here half naked, switch on all lights and look for you, to get shot myself on a whimp, or take my fucking gun and try to help you? How dare you to get up without a word and scare me to death? I thought, they have you, and be sure, if they get you back in their greedy fingers they'll finish what they started. And next time, I maybe won't be there, or not in time, and what's then? Carrie, what the fuck happens then? They nearly raped and killed you today, does that register? Because I WAS TOO LATE.

 

For once, Carrie's out of words. If the circumstances weren't so grave, it would be damn funny she thinks, Quinn in her old shirt, oversize for her, but too narrow for him, stretched over his chest, and in boxer briefs, hairs standing at all ends, more of a suburban guy training for his next neighboorhood watch shift than one of America's most dangerous and effective government-paid killers. Her anger vanishes into thin air while she looks at him and she feels awfully sorry and strangely vulnerable.

 

-Quinn...I was thirsty...I didn't want to wake you up...you looked like you could use some sleep...so I came downstairs, put your clothes out to dry and had a glass of water...just this...nothing else. I heard a sound but didn't realize it was you. I was just about to get upstairs again.

 

He doesn't look at her. Instead he is leaning on the kitchen counter, both hands at the counter top, clenched into fists, breathing heavily.

 

She closes the distance between them, switching off the lights, and stands still behind his back, unsure what's next. But it feels right.

 

So she carefully wraps her arms around his waist and leans against his back, pressing one cheek between his shoulder blades. She feels him stiffen and, after a moment, taking a deep breath and finally relaxing.

 

-I'm here, Quinn. Nothing happened. You kept me safe today.

 

She feels one of his hands coming up and closing around hers. He doesn't speak as he's afraid his voice would break. He has been panicking, when the bed was empty, and thinking what would have happened in case she hadn't yelled, which thankfully gave him a clear indication of her location, and he had shot at the alledged intruder...he can't even think of it without feeling sick. So much about keeping her safe.

 

_This is exactly why anti-weapon-activists really do have some good points about weapons in domestic enviroments...God, Carrie, I might have shot you..._

 

-Let's go back to bed, Quinn. I won't get up again without telling you, I promise.

 

He feels her small frame in his back, warm, soft, alive. And he can't resist the prospect of lying next to her under that warm cover again. A fucking addict, that's what he is. So he follows her upstairs, his Glock again back in his hand.

 


	8. Chapter 8

When they are back in her room she steps out of the doorway to make way for him and while he rounds the bed and puts his weapon away, she secures the door again. He's sitting on the edge of the bed when he looks back at her, just in time to see her raising the hem of her top and lifting it, in a sleepy pace, very slow, very deliberate.

And then it's gone.

Her gaze never leaves his face while she is lowering her pj bottoms and stepping out of them.

Now she's only wearing her panties and the dressing around her arm. He notices how he's trying to focus on her arm and the bandage because everything else would be...unbearable...

But then she uses that very arm to lower her panties, down to her thighs, her knees, and when she ankles one leg and uses her toes to bring the lacey fabric down to the floor...and that's...so sweet and vulnerable and hot...and makes him feel a longing he hasn't known yet...although it is still a spectacular bad idea.

She senses his doubt, somehow he has lost his ability to keep his guard with her, or maybe she's just more perceiving, he doesn't know.

She crawls behind him and knowing she's naked is not helpful at all, and when her hands come round his waist and rest for a moment on his thighs, just long enough to place an open mouth kiss below his left ear, he thinks how he can be so keyed up without anything having happened so far, well, except her getting naked for him, and she lifts his shirt, and all he can do is following her movements, like a puppet on a string, right arm, left arm, head.

She embraces him tightly from behind and he feels her breasts against his bare back, and honest to god, it's the best feeling he had in ages, being held by Carrie, the nakedness and what's implied by this being a more than welcome bonus but alone the embrace is...he allows himself to close his eyes and leans in a bit, and she continues undressing him by pushing his briefs down, he raises his hips in approval and assistance, and she goes back to embracing him, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth and his neck. Her hands go up to his shoulders and she softly strokes down his arms and whispers in his ear.

-You won't turn me away twice in one night, Quinn, will you? Because I really want to be with you.

_Oh my god._

  
-No, Carrie, I won't. If that's what you really want. Because what I want is out of question, I guess, he whispers and finally turns around.

  
-I want you, Quinn.

He is already so aroused and when her hands wander down to the inner sides of his thighs, fingernails lightly grazing his skin and one soft, cool hand enfolds his hardon, he needs to hold his breath for a moment to calm down.

And the last thought, before he's done thinking and talking for this night, is, that in a way it is good that she knows what it is for him. Hence he doesn't need to pretend it's something else, less deep, less important, less emotional, and doesn't have to be careful not to convey too much in his love making.

Because she already knows. And he'll feel bad about getting rejected anyway, so if accepting the inevitable he can as well accept it for going all the way. It's gonna be painful anyway. He's pretty sure he'll ask Dar for a lonely desert assignment very soon.

And whereas his earlier attempts during this night probably would have ended in a mind-blowing, passionate, but desperate and urgent fuck, there is no urgency in Carrie's bedroom now. They both can't deny the despair, they witnessed too much evil this night and in all the weeks before, but they do their best to keep their demons at bay.

He kisses her, and while he possesses her mouth - he's an excellent kisser, and it's a good thing she's already flat on her back, although she can't remember how she got there - he starts caressing her breasts, palming them, fondling her nipples, stroking along the sides, gentle kneading, getting rougher and slowing back down again. And all along he keeps that kiss going on, emitting sparks of desire, lust, love and hope, not letting the despair prevail. She has surrendered herself to his touch, kisses him back fervently, clings to his shoulders and back, caresses his nape, back and butt and doesn't want him ever to stop.

And when he lets go off her mouth and starts to kiss and nuzzle and lick every inch of her body she moans all those things she said before, and some more, only this time he really can enjoy them: Things like "Hold me” and “I need you to hold me” and “Touch me everywhere” and “Please, Quinn, please” and “Don`t go away” and “I need you” and "Don't stop, please don't stop" and "Please, I want you inside me" and "Make me come, Quinn" and "I want you to come inside me". He's happy to obey, although some of her requests have to wait a just bit longer until they're going to be granted.

He's mostly gentle and careful with her, afraid a rougher attempt might wake some demons and scare her, only when he senses her longing for more friction his movements get bolder and more demanding.

She climaxes for the first time while he's sucking her nipples and caressing her clit with two fingered-circles, slow, strong movements. She moans his name as she comes and he swears to the god he doesn't believe in anymore that he'll make her do this again, in this memorable night.

She is as willing and eager to give as she is receptive for the pleasure he is offering her and when her lips and tongue trail along his torso, down south, spiralling around his navel, covering the last few inches, he squirms in anticipation of what's gonna happen now. She takes him all in, all at once, and it's only the sweet moment of surprise which prevents him from shooting into her mouth right away.

He has to use his hands to hold her still for a while because if she starts to move now...he thinks he hears her giggle but prefers not to listen too close...and when she then starts to suck, lick, swirl and grate with her teeth his hearing as well as all his senses and consciousness are redundant anyway because all his brain can process is her mouth around his cock and what she's doing there.

When he finally comes, she just has sucked him in deeply, followed by quick swirls of her tongue around the bell-end, and then again deep in, he fades out for a couple of moments, just feeling himself exploding in her mouth and the immense frenzy while waves of his orgasm are flashing through his loins and spine.

He pulls her up from between his legs to lay on his chest, her legs mingling with his, and they lay in silence for quite a while, one of his arms lazily on her back, drawing slow circles, there is no rush now, the other hand cupping one of her buttocks.

-Quinn?, she asks after a while with a very fragile voice which instinctively makes him tightening his embrace.

-Uh?

-None of this was your fault.

He doesn't know what to say and actually doesn't feel like talking at all.

-But I was so scared.

_Oh God, Carrie. I bet you were. So was I. I thought I'd lost you. That I was too late, again. And if I had it my way, you'd never go out there again. I'd do everything to protect you, everything. But that's not who we are. So you'll go out there again and I'll try to be there in time. Until one day, I'll fail. But now, here, you are safe. I want you to feel safe and protected._

But he doesn't say any of this, just keeps holding her. Hoping some of his thoughts might transpire magically. Or maybe better not.

-Quinn, make love to me. I want to be with you. Please.

And that's what he does then, without really processing the veiled beauty of what she said and maybe meant, slow and tender seduction, urging to cossett her with pleasure, to make her feel and forget, at least for a while. It feels bittersweet, because the morning is coming closer, and he doesn't know how they can go back to how it was before, probably they can't. And he'll leave then. But right now, in the sereneness of Carrie's bedroom, it doesn't matter, he decides.

He lays her on her back, sprawling her out on top of the soft bedcover, and kneels next to her to caress her from head to toe, until she is boneless and pliant under his touch, his hands probing, caressing and rejoicing her body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touch her. And she lets it happen, gives herself to him.

He had a lot of fantasies of being with her but this...It's so different to what he would ever been able to imagine to happen and in that way it is simply stunningly breathtaking.

It doesn't take a lot to make her come when he finally enters her, stimulated as she is through his ongoing assaults. Pinned between his elbows she is looking up to him and he feels her pussy tightening and squeezing around him after a few slow thrusts and stays deep while she goes over the edge, hands around his neck, moaning his name.

-Don't close your eyes, Carrie, I wanna see you. Can you do that for me? Look at me, he whispers hoarsely.

Her eyes are large, her pupils widely dilated and she holds his gaze. For a moment, he thinks he sees...something...astonishment, tenderness and something else...but he can't really think about it, well, who could, in that moment?

He holds himself back until he feels her orgasm tappering off and pulls out after he has kissed her, possessive and deep.

-Quinn...

His hand goes round her cheek and he smiles down at her.

-I'm not done with you yet. Not if you allow me to...

And with that he flips her over on her belly, so fast and smooth, she can only admire, and brings himself over her, ensheathing her body with his. She feels small and sheltered under his bulk, his abdomen against her butt, his chest against her back, his prick grazing her slit.

 

_I want him so much. How come I never saw it?_

 

She wiggles for a bit more room to move her legs and angles one knee to allow him better access to re-enter her. When he slides into her, her passage tight and wet, better as in any of his fantasies, and murmuring her name is all what's left to say, a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh. He slowly moves forward until he is completely into her, already utterly lost in the escalating pleasure. It feels incredible.

-Oh God, Carrie...tell me to stop... if it's too much... but I really...I think I can't do slow and gentle now...I...

Her voice is just a soft whisper, her eyes are closed, but her left hand searches his and closes around his wrist, and the tenderness and trust in that gesture nearly breaks his heart into two halfs.

-I want you, Quinn, just take me...I like that...

He starts thrusting into her, his gaze fixed on the vulnerable curve of her neck and shoulder and her small white hand clenching around his wrist. He covers her other hand with his, a smaller mockup of how his body engulfs hers.

While he tries to keep it at a slow pace he's not very successful in his attempt and finds himself soon pumping faster and harder into her, consuming her body in a way he probably shouldn't, and which he'll never forget, but her hips meet his thrusts and she deliberately pushes back at each stroke, he feels her panting, and just before he is going to come he feels her tightening around his shaft and she lets a soft scream and goes with him.

Their bodies keep moving together for a few more times and he feels her breathing heavily beneath him, her hand is still leeching around his wrist. So he thrusts gently several times more, enjoying some sparks of afterglow and her sweet moaning.

She doesn't let go of his hand when he finally pulls out and rolls down to her side, afraid his weight might crush her otherwise. His heart is pumping and it's pleasurable satisfying when he feels her pulse racing while caressing her neck. She knows what he's doing, even with her eyes still closed, because he sees the corner of her mouth curling up and leans in to kiss her.

He can't help it.

-You liked it too, did you?

-'Like' is not exactly the word, but yes, I did. A lot... And stop checking my pulse rate, will you? I'm not passing out and I can tell you it was amazing, if it's that what you're looking for, greedy compliment-seeker.

But when she opens her eyes, she's smiling.

He always found her array of facial expressions fascinating, she can't hide anything, and seeing her smile, completely open, vulnerable and content is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

It's downright silly how far he's already down the road to mad love, and it never happened before, at least not like with her, but somehow she got him from day one.

She turns and wraps herself around him, kissing him on his mouth and shoulder before her head rests on his chest. Her upper leg is locked around his calf and her arm spread over his chest, searching for his hand again. Their fingers entwine, it feels like the most natural thing to do, and his other arm goes around her shoulders.

They just lay still, spent, and very close.

He has no idea how he'll ever force himself to get up and leave but this night won't last forever.

  
But there's still some time left and they both could use some more sleep.

He gently moves her down from his shoulder and lets go of her hand to snag for the blankets and covers both of them, gravitating back into her warmth. She snuggles her body up against him, her breathing evening out, her arm warm and heavy on his chest.

_Now I know, how it feels, to be the person who is allowed to sleep in his arm. Fucking good. So desired, so safe, so...loved?_

About to drift off back into sleep she suddenly remembers something which subconciously has been with her all week, just the crazy turn of events of the week kept her from following that thought.

-Quinn?

His voice is throaty and he sounds tired when answering with "What is it?"

-Remember the night after Javadi went crazy?

-He was always crazy, wasn't a onetime-incident.

He's not really interested in discussing Javadi right now, she can hear that.

-Yeah...but that night, at Long Hill Road? When you confessed?

-How could I ever forget that day?

-Right before I asked you if you'll help me, you were about to tell me something. At least it felt like that. What was it?

_Here we go._

-When I said, I don't believe it anymore?

-Yeah.

-Well, exactly what I said.

-No. It feels like there was more. What happened?

-A lot of things happened.

Adjusting her position she gently pulls on his hand to make him roll onto his side and face her in the dim, nearly dark room, her arm wrapped around him, hand on his shoulderblade.

_How does she do this? Now, after all what just happened, and the motherfucker of a day we had, I'm this close to just haze out...enjoying being with her...and not this._

-Caracas? When you said, wrong crime, right guy? Was it Caracas?

_She can't know anything about it. It must be an educated guess. How does she do this?_

-I just wanna go back and do it all over.

It's said before he starts thinking.

-Wanna tell me?

The thing is, he can't lie to her, not tonight. But he'll never forget how Julia looked at him, after he'd told her, how horror, compassion and disgust crept in her gaze. It's downright scary to know that it's gonna be over as soon as he'll answer. But it'll be over in a few hours anyway and she'll not let him off the hook with a lie. So he closes his eyes, he can't see that again, not with her.

-I shot a kid. Sedeño's son. He was nine. I planned a car bomb, but when I saw the kid on the back seat I opted for plan B. The window was narrow, ten minutes, in his residency, and then, I already had taken out Sedeño, there was light in the hallway, I thought it was an armed guard and shot through the door...oh god, Carrie, I killed that kid.

She hears the pain in his voice and feels how her heart tightens for the man next to her, who has given her so much tonight and has been baring his soul in doing so.

_Not only tonight. I just didn't see it before._

And when she feels how he's about to move away, she wraps her leg and her arm around his and pulls him back, pulls his head down to hers, putting her forehead against his, he feels her breathing soft and warm against his skin. Her voice is just a whisper.

-I'm not telling you it was an accident, cause you know that yourself. And I know it doesn't help. And you'll never stop feeling guilty. But I am so sorry. I know how it feels, to feel that guilt and pain. You're safe here, with me. Let's just sleep.

He's still stiff in the warm cocoon of her embrace but slowly starts to feel...well, what? Certainly not relieved, their is no redemption, not for what he did, but...maybe...heard and understood? And that feels good. _Being held by Carrie._ So he reaches out, puts a strand of her hair behind her ear and strokes his hand smoothly down her back, pulling her back closer in doing so.

They don't speak anymore.

This is how they drowse away then, snuggled against and around each other, and she thinks, it's a genuinly strange thing, this night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I can post long chapters. Last chapter comes tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

 

~~~~

It's early morning. She's waking up slowly, before him.

 _He's still here, he didn't sneak out and leave._

As he is still breathing deep and even, she allows herself to pause for a moment and to close her eyes again while relaxing back in his embrace.

_How does this feel, now? Good, new, strange and awkward but genuinly good. Very good._

He is warm, possessive even even in his sleep, with space and with her, he's using most of the mattrass and one arm never lets go of her. She thinks she remembers him placing a sleepy kiss on her shoulder a while ago.

_How would it be, if he woke up now and we were just...normal...smiling at each other and having a mutual understanding about what we are, now, or what we are not._

She allows herself to relax in his arm for a few seconds longer, breathing in his scent, enjoying his warm, steady presence.

_I wish I could just stay here, with him, today. No office, no Saul, no Javadi, just spending the day here with a bit more sleep, some talking, not about grave topics, just talking, I bet he can be very funny, and maybe a bit more of, well, yeah...that might be nice too...but:_

_You're just a manipulative bitch._

She forgot that for a few hours.

\-------------------

Of course he's awake the second she stirrs. But as he genuinly has no idea how to endure the inevitable he just lays still and waits. Mornings after are awkward at best times but this here now, with Carrie...he has no idea how to handle this. They'll need to be back in the office soon, yesterday's events need to be evaluated, reported, next steps need to be discussed, Javadi will get in touch soon, that's sure as fuck, and there's no room for a personal crisis, not even room for a certain awkwardness between him and Carrie. He knows she needs him on the case. And it would be the shittiest thing to let her down now. He won't do this. He'll finish this op with her and then he'll go back to his business with Dar. Carrie won't be in Langley forever too. He heard rumors for her being overdue for a next stint overseas. So this here is a onetime-thing, as soon as she's getting up and in the bathroom, he'll get up, collect his clothes and will retreat, spare her (and himself) the horrible "This can never happen again but let's be cool about it"-talk, and ask the guys outside to escort her to the office later. She'll appreciate that. And then they'll go back to business. It's been terrible before, so he'll just go back to terrible. He can do that.

_Only now I know how it could be. Doesn't make it easier. Not just the mind-boggling sex. That too...of course...but how it feels to be with her, in all her contrariness, how caring, how vulnerable she can be._

He thinks she's snuggling closer but that must be a delusion, why would she, and then she's getting up and is gone.

\-------------------------

He's not in the bed anymore when she comes out of the bathroom. She's relieved... what do you say to your naked co-worker who called you manipulative bitch, after he saved your life and you had an incredible night with him?

But she's diasappointed, too. Because it feels like that's how it's gonna be now. They'll go back to work, probably he already is on his way, and this night never existed.

_Only now I know how it could be. Doesn't make it easier. Not just the mind-boggling sex. That too...of course...but how it feels to be with him, in all his contrariness, how caring, how vulnerable he can be. How it could feel to be loved._

Only she wishes now there would be another way.  
\--------------------------

He's about to leave, his hand at the door knob, when he hears a tiny _'Good morning'_ in his back.

_Fuck._

\--------------------------

She sees him leaving and she knows if he goes through that door now, they'll never speak about it again.

_Fuck. So, how to start? Maybe with the time of the day._

\---------------------------

He's turning around and there she is. He often wondered about her morning routine - _what a creepy thing to do_ \- now he knows. She's having a shower first, already dressed in suit pants and blouse, but no jacket and no make up yet. Hair still damp. She'll probably just have coffee and then get ready to leave, he never took her for a breakfast type.

\---------------------------

_Really, Quinn? Like this?_

She doesn't say anything, well, that's how conversations go, one says something, like 'good morning', great example actually, and then the other one says something, like 'good morning' or 'did you sleep well?'.

Only he doesn't know what to say. And she looks hurt.

_But why should she?_

He notices that the silence is kind of awkward. Gosh, he's choking on words.

-Ehm, I was just about to tell the surveillance guys that everything's fine here.

-Were you? Then why don't you?

_Sure, Quinn, that's what you were doing so everybody knows where you spent the night._

-Yeah, I was. But I could give them a call, yeah, I'll do that.

_Pathetic. Embarrassing. Getting caught while sneaking out. And then staying. Without knowing if she doesn't mind. But I think I saw a tiny smile. Is that good?_

-Sure. I'll make coffee.

_So why is he staying?_

Talking to surveillance is a matter of seconds, brewing two mugs of coffee takes exactly three buttons to be pushed and one water container to be re-filled, so it's less than a minute later that he sits at the kitchen bar, opposite of Carrie, with a steaming mug in front of him.

-I'm not much of a breakfast person but I have granola. You want some? I might have some yoghurt, although I won't bet on the best before date.

-Nah, I'm fine.

They sip their coffee in silence, both lost for words.

_He won't say anything until I do._

-Why did you call me a manipulative bitch?

At least she's having his full attention now, he's stopped staring at his mug but looks at her now, with that stoic expression of his, which she usually took for annoyance or masked irritation, but now she thinks it might be something else.

-Can't we just forget about this?

She weighs his answer, but she knows she won't forget about it and it's important to her and for what she wanted to ask him for quite some time anyway.

-No. It's important to me.

But he's not gonna give in.

-Let's just say, it was a stressful situation and I didn't have the right to say, well write that. I'm sorry.

His face gives away nothing but she thinks, in his eyes she sees a glimpse of, well, what?

_I'll embarass myself if I'm wrong. But last night...it would have been different if it had just been about sex, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it, Quinn?_

_Why can't she just let go? Why am I still here?_

-I wanna ask you something. I wanted to talk to you about this all week but you know what the week was like...

_Yeah, the fuck I know. I know you are desperatly searching the bomber to clear the ginger's name._

-What is it?

-I'll be going to Istanbul soon. As station chief. And handling Javadi.

He saw it coming, and as determined as he was to ask for an overseas mission asap as surprised he is about the pang of pain he feels at the thought of parting.

 _So this is it. Last night was good bye. Thank you very much, Carrie, for a pity-fuck it's been pretty awesome_.

-So that was what you got out of your deal with Saul about the nut house?

He sees a flicker of hurt darting across her face at his purposeful pejorative labeling of her clinic.

_Yeah, I know I can be such a dick. I don't know what else to say, so I aim for perfunctory. Or for lashing out. Never failed me._

-It is. I'll leave soon. Ten days, two weeks maybe. Saul needed to get Lockhart on board, obviously, but he agreed two days ago.

-So, youngest station chief in history?

She lowers her gaze to her mug and he can't help it but that modesty crawls under his skin.

-Lockhart said so, yes. But, it's not that they had so many insanes to choose from to cozen Javadi. So, I guess, it's not such a big deal, and Lockhart's certainly not happy about it.

_Fuck, Carrie, because you are fucking brilliant, that's why they chose you. Stop being so self-depriciating. And I'll miss working with you. And I'll miss you._

-He'll learn to value you.

He says that to his mug, not to her, but still it helps her to go on.

-I can bring three team-members. And I wanted to ask you if you wanna come.

He can't mask his surprise at that, as it is too unexpected.

_How ain't that gonna work?_

-As what?

-Basically, you can choose. The team's major task would be to run the Javadi-op, preparing and securing my meetings with him, evaluating the ongoing developments in Iran, recruiting other assets there as sounding board for the intel we get from the motherfucker, evaluating the intel we gather. Covert work. So, you can join as senior case officer, leading that operation. Or, in case you fancy a CIA-classic, the station is in need of a new chief of support, in Istanbul that position happens to be the deputy station chief as well. I'd prefer you in the operation, though.

_If I choose to come._

-Why me?

_And why do you ask today, of all days?_

-Fuck, Quinn, if you don't wanna come just say so. But you are good at what you are doing. One of the best. And I'm not referring to your work with Dar, Dar might praise you for this, I'm talking about the work we did together. I'd like to continue that. And last week, on Long Hill Road, it felt like you wanted out, so I thought, maybe not quitting the CIA in general but changing into classic clandestine intelligence work with hopefully no or just very limited need for use of weapons might be a way to start that change and see where that brings you. And when I am suddenly in the position to offer you that, well, I thought, maybe...

Her voice trailed off.

_And here is me, who thought back then, what I said didn't register with her at all. And now it's the second time within twelve hours she's not only referring to it...but trying to understand...and help..._

-I thought you didn't pay a lot of attention to what I said.

She sighed and made a long arm to restart the coffee machine.

-You want another one, too? Give me your mug. I don't want to dig to deep into that matter, but this is part of my condition. I don't always react in a sociable acceptable way, sometimes it takes some time for me to connect the loose ends, sometimes I don't get there at all. But usually I am quite good in tracing despair and pain.

_Yeah, you are, because you had far too much of that in your own life. Makes you amenable for these, I guess. That's a surprise, I didn't see you seeing me that night. As much as I hoped for it. And now you try to solve my personal clusterfuck for me. As I ever would let you down and not come if you ask me for it._

-What about Dar?

Fuck, that was unintended. But he needs time to think, and those blue eyes looking at him...expectantly...

_Am I deluding myself or is there some insecurity as well, but why? You have all the cards in your hand, Carrie._

She's taken aback, he can see that. Just, he has no idea if this is an unexpected job interview or something else.

_How about, thanks for the offer, Carrie, I'd like to come and I'll figure out my shit with Dar myself? Man up, Quinn, come on._

-He does not own you. If Lockhart orders you to Istanbul, he won't reject. But, if you prefer to keep doing what you are doing or have a problem with being my subordinate, you could keep working for Dar...but maybe choose Istanbul as your homebase...if you'd want that too...

_It's out there. I've said it._

-As what, Carrie? Your personal bodyguard? Your fuck-buddy?

He knows that anger and hurt are colouring his voice, but how to stop?

_Enough is enough._

-I don't know, Quinn. You tell me. Because albeit being accused only to want to manipulate and reject you, I can't recall you being rejected last night. And I wasn't the one trying to sneak out unseen this morning. And I'm neither the one who feels insecure about you being in Istanbul nor am I the one introducing the word 'fuck-buddy' into our conversation. So, what do you want? So full of yourself, you think, it's that what it was? Because you are such a great fuck and I wanted a taste of that?

_She's hurt._

-Carrie, I...

-Fuck, Quinn, I was pretty forthcoming last night. You were the all silent assaulter. I said things like 'I want to be with you' and 'I need you' and now I have to fucking explain if I want you to come to Istanbul as my fuck buddy? Well, thank you.

-Carrie, please, I get it...I thought you were just...I know how it goes...one says certain things when...

_Only I'm pretty sure I never said those things ever._

-You know, just forget about that part. You still can come to Istanbul, and I'd still like to work with you, and we just forget the rest.

This goes all much too fast for him and seeing her turning away, probably to hide a wobbly chin, he thinks he saw it, doesn't make it easier. She pretends to busy herself with the coffee machine, then gets a jar out of the kitchen storage and fills a cup with granola.

-No shit, Carrie, so suddenly you are the saint and I'm the bad guy?

-If that's what you wanna tell yourself.

-No, it's what you wanna tell yourself.

She turns around and looks at him with averted eyes.

-No, Quinn, you are just looking for an easy way out. She was just pretending, so I left. Which makes you the selfless knight and me the manipulative bitch.

-Carrie...I know it's about Brody. I knew it before yesterday. So you don't have to try to pretend. And about last night...just don't pretend it was not...

_I have no idea where I am heading at. Why the fuck did I stay?_

-I didn't try to manipulate you. And I'm not the one who's rejecting anybody here.

-You'll never let that go, will you?

_No, I won't. Because it hurts. Coming from you, it hurts._

She suddenly turns around again, opening the fridge for a joghurt container and closing the door with fury.

-Don't worry, we never will speak about this again. Just tell me your choice until Friday, that's when I need get back to Lockhart. But be warned, if you decide to come, I need you to work with me.

And he knows it's up to him now. She will never mention the last night again. He can go out here, choose to go to Istanbul or not, see her every day or never again, but she'll never mention yesterday again.

_And I'll never know what it was for her._

She said all those things, that's true. And it felt not like a lie, last night. But now, in the light of the day...he just has no idea how he's supposed to navigate now.

In the meantime, Carrie's found a spoon and is about to open the joghurt.

A train of thought lingers...but maybe choose Istanbul as your homebase...that wasn't about needing him in an operation.

_That was about...being together during off-time...like coming home for inbetween missions...like...I don't know...a couple?...what an odd thought..._

He watches her spooning yoghurt over her granola. It's green. Disgustingly mould-green. She doesn't notice.

_If I don't say something now, she'll eat it. She'll eat fucking furry green yoghurt, she hasn't even noticed it because she is as nervous as I am._

And this is what does him in. That she is so desperatly waiting for his answer that the granola and joghurt is just an attempt to play cool. That she's so distracted that she'd eat green furry yoghurt.

So he makes a decision.

-Hey, I thought you are no breakfast person?

His voice his low and right behind her.

-No, I'm fucking not. But...

-...it's a good way to keep yourself busy while I needed some time to sort my shit?

-Yeah, kind off.

-You don't have to eat dry granola or mouldy joghurt. I'll buy you breakfast when we drive to the office. I...the thing is...I thought what I want is pretty obvious, at least since yesterday. Whereas you...

He's standing right behind her now, gently touching her chin and turning her head towards her Brody-wall.

His hand is warm and she briefly remembers how it felt last night, what he did with those hands.

-Yeah, that...would it be an awful thing to say I kind of...re-evaluted?

-When?

-Last night, when I went downstairs.

_So before we fucked._

-And what did you evaluate?

-You need me to talk about it?

-Carrie...if...we...let's say, I better don't consider your generous Istanbul-offer as long as I don't know what this is about.

_I get that, he's testing the water first. So would I._

-You know how people sometimes say, a certain incident opened a window for them, or let them see clearer? Let's just say, I understand that now.

He still stands behind her but let's go of her chin, withdrawing his hand, then hesitating  
and then she feels that hand on her shoulder. Warm, reassuring, a gentle squeeze.

-But this won't stop us hunting the real bomber.

She's grateful it's not a question.

-You helped me yesterday too, even when you were angry and wanted to walk away. And even if I'd kicked you out last night, after rejecting me when I was nearly naked and turned on, I tend to hope you'd still not let me down if you were the only chance I had to regain a life.

_Good point._

She turns around and looks at him.

-I have to do that. Even more than before. If I let him down now, because we are...that would be  
sleazy and back-stabbing. That said, this goes only for me, I get it if you don't want to be part of that.

-Wouldn't it be a bit weired that I agreed to help you when it was all about him and now, when you say, this changed, to withdraw that offer? That's not who I am. I didn't agree to help you to lure you into my bed.

-My bed.

-What?

-I said, it was my bed. Yesterday. Tonight. Whatever.

_It's a strange thing, last night when we finally just gravitated towards each other, it was so much easier. But now, after that night and all that talking, and establishing...well, what? A relationship?_

She makes a tentative step forward, placing a hand on his chest, looking up to him.

-You won't make me to repeat all I said, Peter Quinn, just to get a kiss, will you? Because I might re-evaluate then.

_So this is real._

He bends down to kiss her, then decides otherwise and lifts her up to place her on the counter top, parting her knees with his legs to make her straddle him.

Then he kisses her.

_About fucking time._

-Fuck, Carrie, I'm not very good at this, he mutters against her lips.

-Me neither. But I'd like if we try. Assuming you are not talking about pantry sex but...being together...

Time for words is over for some minutes, lips and hands reconfirming what has been established by last night's actions and words, finding their way through and under clothes.

Suddenly he pulls back and she groans.

 _Way to kill a mood, Quinn..._

-What's that?

-What you said earlier? About me staying in the group but choosing Istanbul as homebase? Why did you say that?

-Cause I'm no fucking mind-reader. If you wanna stay with the group, that's your choice.

-You wouldn't mind that?

He sounds incredulous.

-If that's what you want. Listen, Quinn, I am not good at this. I have no idea how this will work. But I like what I do. And I wouldn't want anybody to take that away from me. So if the same goes for you...that's a choice only you can make.

_She's indeed incredible._

-No, I'd like to work with you. I'd like to go to Istanbul. It's...time for a change, let's put it that way.

_To be with you. But working together is good too._

-Good. Just so you know, I can't pick you for the mission and at the same time...be with you...that's not allowed...so if you choose to come...

-...this here remains a little secret for a while? So what are our rules then?, he asks, genuinly curious while bending down to kiss her neck. No kisses in the ops room, no office sex, no lunch dates? What is allowed, though?

She has never thought about it, there never was a reason for that.

-Well, office sex is always secretive, so I wouldn't exclude that right away. But...maybe we start with the easy shit? Like no kisses in the parking lot?

-Question was, what is allowed.

-Quinn, fuck, I don't know. I just don't know, it's not that I do this every day, why's that so important?

He bends forward and just before his mouth touches hers, he mutters 'Cause I don't wanna fuck it up right from the beginning.'

It's a while later when she answers.

_Christ, we'll never make it to the office today._

-How 'bout we find out? And try to talk about it, every now and then?

-Like, if I'm allowed to be back with some spare clothes tonight? I'd take you out for dinner but as long as we don't know what Javadi's up to, I'd prefer you not to be out too much.

She looks at him. It is downright scary, how he suddenly is a part of...her day, not just in the office. Scary, and still it feels good.

So she makes a decision, maybe they'll both fuck it up, if not he, then she'll probably will, but she really wants to give it a try.

-I think, we can consider that as established, that you can come back at nights, I mean, and having dinner together sounds nice too. I'd like you to stay here...tonight...if you want to...of course only then...but I'd like that.

_Fuck, it's real. I said it._

He goes for action speaks louder than words and leans in to kiss her, soft and tentative at first, soon deepening.

_What a memorable day. Carrie's asking me to join her for Istanbul and to spend the night, no, another night with her. Can someone please pinch me?_

And then he glances over her shoulder at the large clock, it's still early but probably they should start debriefing last night's events soon, but it's not even 7 am yet so what the fuck...

He scoops her up, puts her over his shoulder and carries her back upstairs, ignoring her indignant "Quinn" and her wiggling legs, one hand firmly on her butt, the other one around her thigh.

She starts boxing her tiny fists against his lower back and butt but he won't let her go now.

But she smiles when he lowers her back on the bed.

-This is what I should have done this morning. I kind of forgot.

_No, I didn't forget, I just didn't dare._

And with that he methodically undresses her and himself until they are back to just wearing underwear, pulls the covers back up around her shoulders and spoons her from behind, while whispering in her ear.

-Good morning.

She plays along, wiggles her butt once, _minx_ , and turns around, unveiling a broad smile, leaning in to kiss him.

-Good morning.

Time for words is over and they both know this can't last forever, they'll soon be expected in the office but neither of them is thinking about the office now anyway.

While kissing his hands go around her back, trying to unhook her bra - just there are no hooks.

Carrie's softly laughing against his lips, of course she saw it coming, and its a lovely sound, hearing Carrie laughing.

_Maybe there's a way, maybe we can really do this, having a safe harbour in all that madness around us._

He turns her on her back, looking down at her, an unmasked small smile on his lips, one that actually reaches his eyes. She's never seen that before.

_I could get used to that. Waking up next to a smiling Peter Quinn._

His hands go between the cups of her bra, opening the clasp.

-Even better, as it kind of makes the next step inevitable...

He's parting the cups of her bra, pausing for a brief moment before he gently pushes the straps down her shoulders.

-You are fucking beautiful, Carrie, so fucking beautiful.

And with that, his mouth comes down and covers one of her nipples while the other hand closed around her other breast.

His hands are huge and his palm covers her complete breast, a warm shell, and she longs for more friction and more of him.

But he takes his sweet time, worshipping the soft curves beneath his mouth and hand.

_Now I am allowed to play with her._

His ragged breathing bespeaks of his own excitement and when her hands go down to his boxers she reveals an enourmous hardon and she shivers in joyful anticipation of the bliss ahead of her.

Her small hands palming and fondling him are nearly more as he can bear so it's soon after that he pulls her panties down to her ankles and moves himself between her legs, pinning her between his elbows.

She looks right into his eyes while he slowly pushes into her wetness, and it feels like she can see his very soul.

_I love you, Carrie. I loved you far too early but I can't help it, I love you. And I'll make it all happen for you, if you just let me. I think we can be really good for each other, we can be great together, if we just don't fuck it up._

He's pretty sure she senses some of his thoughts because even if he's fucking her faster and harder now, her eyes never leave his and she pulls him down for a kiss just before they shoot over the edge together.

He comes with his mouth on hers, her teeth grazing his lower lip, her hands and heels down on his buttocks, fervently pushing him inside her.

Her pussy is tightening around him, extending his orgasm for a few more waves and he does the same for her with a few more thrusts, one hand coming down into her folds, searching, finding and stroking her clit.

He feels her squirming beneath him and lets finally go of her mouth to kiss and nuzzle the soft skin of her neck.

That's how they finally lay still, he slids to her side, his arms still around her, face pressed into the curve between her neck and shoulder. Her arm is somewhere burried beneath him, he feels her hand somewhere around his hip, while her other arm comes around to lay on his shoulder.

They are both panting heavily.

After a while he forces himself to prop up on one elbow, she blinks as she feels him moving.

-You were really going to eat that yoghurt, weren't you?

Her mouth twitches.

-God, Quinn, what a lovely thing to say to welcome me back to reality. I was kind of distracted.

-Why?

She opens her eyes now and looks up to him.

-Because you were really taking your sweet time, after I had laid it all out there.

-Yeah...sometimes I'm a bit dorky, I guess...can you say it again?

-What?

-Don't know...maybe the 'I wanna be with you'? or maybe 'Quinn, please make me come'? or wait, how about 'Quinn, I want you to come inside me.'

He knows he has it coming when she pushes him on his back and peppers his chest with small thumps of her fists.

-You heard it all. I knew it. You heard it all. And I'll never say it again.

But they are both smiling when he pulls her back into a tight embrace.

-It'll never get old, Carrie, that I can promise. And about the rest, let's wait and see.

\-----------------

They are on their way to Langley in Carrie's car, coffee and bagels already in a small parcel on Quinn's lap, Quinn has handed the keys of the G-car he used yesterday to Dale for pick up of the car, as his own car is still up at Langley, when Carrie's phone vibrates indicating an incoming message.

She briefly checks it at the next traffic light, meeting his eyes when looking up again.

-Saul. Briefing's at 900. Javadi contacted, he wants to meet me in Istanbul next Monday.

-That's less then 72 hours.

-I know.

-Well, we better use the time wisely then.

_So maybe there really is a way how we can do that. Both of it._

Somehow, she finds that thought extremely reassuring. And as he is still looking at her and the traffic lights are still red, and the day at Langley will be long, she briefly bends over and kisses him, until the car behinds them honks impatiently because the traffic lights are green already for quite a while.

 

 

 

 

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story would not exist without Laure. She gave me the prompt, which was 'a lot of text messages during surveillance' and we then started to develop the draft for the early plot together, which was great fun. In doing so, the idea to write the first chapter together, was born. So Quinn's voice in the text messages in the first chapter and in the very beginning of chapter 2 was created by Laure. 
> 
> We both liked the idea, not to know what's gonna happen next and how we can drive those two to a point where one of them folds and gives a glimpse on his/her real feelings. It took us a while to write that scene, sometimes we just wrote an message a day each, long pauses in between, sometimes it went back and worth at high speed. And I'll be forever grateful that Quinn folded first.
> 
> For me, writing fan fic is an attempt in creative writing and developing my own writing skills, and having a fellow writer who challenges me with great prompts to try an approach I hadn't before (here: an action scene) is a great treasure. And as you probably can imagine: Writing and creating a plot with Laure is great fun.
> 
> We decided together not to reveal the history of that fic before the last chapter goes online.
> 
> So, chapeau to clever SCB who sensed Laure's voice in this very early.
> 
> Another thankful greeting goes to neverending story who helped me to sort Carrie's feelings for Brody by mentioning how a traumatic situation can speed up a certain process and open another window, when we discussed that matter.
> 
> So, obviously, Carrie is not pregnant in this AU and Q did not have to shoot her, as Franklin's already dead. And I have no idea what's gonna happen in Istanbul and onwards but I'd liked the idea to bring those two close without all the baggage they built up in S4 and S5.  
> I think they would've been great together.


End file.
